


Jackson, Abroad

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Other, Reminiscing, coming home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 23:36:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: These days, Jackson tries really hard not to fall back into old habits.





	Jackson, Abroad

**Author's Note:**

> Jackson is my absolute favorite. My problematic fave. 
> 
> I saw [this post](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com/post/163235864147/hoechloin-i-basically-stole-all-the-clothes) on Tumblr, of Colton showing off the fact that he still has the black jacket with zippers on the shoulders Stiles wore in season one. I was immediately hit in the gut with Jackson feels. I tried just working them out by adding onto the post, but I had to expand here. Just a little. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

_Dude, is that my jacket?_

Jackson feels his face flush when he reads Stiles’ comment on his latest Instagram post. He forgot he'd been wearing it when he took that selfie. It's been almost two years since he left Beacon Hills. Since then, he hasn't seen anyone from there in person. Why worry about Stiles recognizing the black jacket after all this time?

He doesn't respond to the comment, doesn't know how he would explain why that is, in fact, Stiles’ jacket. If he had been the same person he was before dying, he would have deflected with a typed out bitchy reply. These days, Jackson tries really hard not to fall back into old habits.

The timing is enough that Jackson has to sit down heavily on his bed. Giant plastic tubs and unfolded cardboard boxes wait along one corner of his room. He's supposed to be packing his stuff so it can all be shipped back to the States. He's going to college this fall. Now that their obligation to get him safely to graduation is over, all three of them are heading back to California. His parents miss their relatives.

Ostensibly, Jackson doesn't have anyone to miss. He's an omega werewolf with no pack. Derek told him, threatened him, that leaving would mean certain death. But Jackson had made his decision, and his parents had insisted on leaving anyway. At that point, if death was waiting for him, Jackson was ready to grimly accept it. He'd survived dying once already. Either it would take, or he'd keep breathing.

He's still breathing.

When he'd been so shaky, scared of failure, and scared of others recognizing the weakness inside, Jackson squirreled away things. First, those things were all aspects of himself that he hated most—orphan, needy, fake. Those things he tried hiding from the very beginning of his existence. Years and years of shoveling parts of himself down until he could build up a facade that reflected power. All of that came crumbling down, due solely to his need to reinforce that very facade. The truest example of being one's own worst enemy.

Then something incredible happened. In the midst of his whole world, his identity, being ripped to shreds, Jackson found himself again. He realized he he had worth simply because he existed, not because he was popular, or because he strove to force his presence to have impact. Scott and Stiles, two boys Jackson had spent more time bullying than not, had spearheaded saving him. They worked to keep others from killing him even though he was a literal monster. They did it because it was the right thing to do, because Jackson was a person beneath his monstrosity.

Honestly, it was humbling and humiliating in turns.

He still doesn't know for sure if what he did next was influenced by the wolf inside or the boy he still was. Either way, within two weeks, Jackson had started squirreling away new things. These items weren't sectioned off parts of his past and personality. They belonged to everyone else; they were concrete evidence that Jackson had people with no real ties to him but still valued him anyway.

Lydia's hair ties were the first because they were already sitting in a drawer of his bathroom. He came across them when he was looking for more toothpaste. Sliding open the drawer, a burst of raspberry and something musky wafted up to him. Jackson had picked them up, stared at them for almost five minutes before he slipped them over his knuckles and onto his wrist. Her love had brought him back from the brink. He would always love her for that, for caring about him in some way that had sunk down into his psyche. Jackson kept the bands on his arm or on his bedside table since that day. Her scent lingered even after it was truly gone.

The semester was over, and when Jackson found the folded over English notes in his backseat, there'd been no reason to return them to Allison. Her tiny doodles in the corner of one sheet caught his eye, made him linger. Bubbly flowers and a simple smiley face. Jackson tucked the notes in his book bag where they traveled across the country, across the ocean, and to England. Sometimes he looks at the scrap of paper taped to his mirror and remembers how sweet and bright her smile was.

Derek's sunglasses were the first thing he actually stole. His reluctant alpha, uncertain and apologetic at best. Leaving him was physically painful. Jackson, with panic building up inside that last night, pocketed the sunglasses when Derek wasn't looking. Later on, Jackson would wear them and close his eyes. The barely there weight on his face easier to focus on than the one pressing in on his head. He could pretend Derek was with him, pretend he was right there.

He realized later that he never threw away Scott's lacrosse glove. Jackson kept not tossing it out. He packed it with his own lacrosse gear. When he was putting everything away later, Jackson unsheathed his claws and pulled the glove on. A wry smile crossed his face.

Stiles’ jacket was probably the boldest theft of them all. He'd taken it from the loft, where it had been lying on the back of a chair along with his own sweatshirt. Jackson grabbed them both in one go and stormed out after announcing he was moving away. For a day or two, Jackson pretended he stole it out of a petty desire for revenge over being cuffed into the back of a prisoner transport truck. The truth was, when he zips it up over his chest, Jackson feels like he is wearing armor. He feels like he’s borrowing Stiles’ bravery.

Jackson flops backwards now, onto a blue and yellow blanket that belonged to Danny. It's light and soft, a throw blanket Danny had since he was seven. Jackson didn't have to steal it because Danny pushed it into his arms without a word. On the plane ride, Jackson slept curled up under the clean scent of his best friend.

Everything is different now. Derek isn't his alpha anymore, in any sense of the word. Jackson and Lydia only have contact through the form of social media hearts. Allison is dead. Scott has an entire pack, is an alpha that came into his power naturally. Stiles tries reaching out to him ever so often, keeping tabs. Danny graduated early and will be starting his second year at MIT.

Everything is different and Jackson hopes he's one of those changes too. He knows he has these people to thank for that.

A little notification dings, dragging Jackson's attention to the moment. It's a direct message from Stiles.

_I knew I wasn't crazy. Lol. Don't worry, like everything, it looks better on you._

Jackson's thumb hovers over the keyboard. Then he taps out a reply.

 _I'm coming back in three weeks. You can say hi to it, if you want_.

Stiles response is almost instantaneous.

_Hell yeah, man. Let me know when you get in! :)_

He smiles, warmth blooming inside.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


End file.
